Merry Chotter & the DM's Stone
by Kate13
Summary: 13! A Harry Potter/Marching Band crossover written in between morning and evening band camp. YAY BANDOIDS!
1. A Pretty Pathetic Life

Well… we all knew it was coming, one day. Someone had to do it, so that someone is now me. Here it is! Harry Potter Meets Marching Band!  
  
Disclaimer: I own Polades, Uncle Harnon, Aunt Melunia, Adley, and Merry. Everything that resembles Harry Potter is JKR's. Everything that resembles marching band is not mine, though I sometimes wish it was.  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter One  
  
  
  
The town of Polades, Maryland, was one of those towns where nothing eventful ever happens. Sure, all of the Polades-dwellers were happy enough, but they would never be known outside the city boundaries. Their newspaper, The Polades News, had been established for the sole purpose of printing birth, death, and classified notices. Yes, life in Polades was quiet and peaceful. Their athletic teams were something they could all be proud of, and everyone in their town was pretty athletic.  
  
  
  
One day, everything in Polades changed. In the darkness of the night, a baby was dropped on the doorstep of the football coach (who was married to the softball coach and having an affair with the cheerleading coach and the girls' basketball coach). In order to boost his public image, the football coach took the child in, but raised her in a little cabinet under the sink. The football and softball coaches would find themselves busy raising their field-hockey/rugby star of a daughter and more than glad to have another girl around to cook, clean, and generally stay out of their way. There was something odd about this child, though; she wasn't happy playing sports and walking around making peculiar noises with her lips.  
  
  
  
Only the softball coach knew what was really going on; the child who had been dropped on the doorstep was her niece, her sister's child. In that sister was a secret the softball coach prayed nightly no one in Polades would ever find out. One thing was for sure; the girl could never find out about her history.  
  
  
  
~*~Eleven years later~*~  
  
  
  
Merry Chotter woke up with a start as she heard her cousin Adley turn on the sink to fill up her water bottle for the day's game. Merry was sick of Adley, her family, and the many sports teams that were always over at the house, but, of course, she had no say in anything.  
  
  
  
Adley started kicking the door to the cabinet where Merry had been semi- happily sleeping. "Chotter! Get up! I've got a game in an hour and I need a good breakfast! Mom and Dad say it's your turn to cook!"  
  
  
  
*Of course it's my turn to cook,* Merry thought sarcastically. *Is it ever anyone else's?* She slowly opened the creaking cabinet door and climbed out, uncoiling her cramped body and stretching out all of the kinks. As she started to mix pancake batter for a nice carbohydrate-full breakfast, her Uncle Harnon and Aunt Melunia came out into the kitchen, flexing their muscles and talking loudly.  
  
  
  
"So, Addlums, you ready for your big match-up today?" Uncle Harnon asked. "State competition is a big event for a seventh-grader, you realize. I'm proud of you for making it; this really shows that all the hard work you put in to make Varsity really paid off."  
  
  
  
*Paid off is right,* Merry said to herself. *I'm sure that hefty donation to the PMS Athletic Fund helped just a tad. It didn't hurt, for sure, since it was really a donation to yourself!*  
  
  
  
"Addy, I'm so proud of you!" Aunt Melunia crooned. "I couldn't have asked for a better daughter!"  
  
  
  
"Yeah," Adley replied, "it's a good thing I didn't turn out like Merry!"  
  
  
  
"Now, Adley," reprimanded Uncle Harnon in a voice that wasn't really serious at all. "Even if what you say is true…"  
  
  
  
"I should wait until the person I'm talking about it out of earshot," Adley finished like a perfect daughter.  
  
  
  
Merry grimaced as she piled food on plates for her aunt, uncle, and cousin. How sickening could this family get?  
  
  
  
"That's right, my girl!" Uncle Harnon praised. His voice turned suddenly to strongly resembling a bark. "Where's my food, Chotter?"  
  
  
  
"Coming, Uncle Harnon, sir," Merry replied, trembling. She brought the meal to the table and set down the three heaping plates.  
  
  
  
"Next time, work faster!" Aunt Melunia commanded. "There's some old Smart Start in the pantry for you."  
  
  
  
* Joy in the morning! * Merry thought to herself, but dared not say anything. She got the cereal box out of the pantry and poured a serving in her cracked bowl.  
  
  
  
"Adley, after your game, we have a lovely surprise for you!" Uncle Harnon told his daughter in an excited voice. "We're going to go to the zoo!"  
  
  
  
"The ZOO?" Adley moaned. "We went there LAST year after my State game, PLUS to the mall to get some new equipment!" Her voice was close to a scream.  
  
  
  
"Now, now, honey," Aunt Melunia intervened, "what your daddy MEANS to say is that we're going to the zoo, and the mall, AND Chez Paulo," she named the ritziest restaurant within an hour of Polades, "and then we'll go buy your whole team new uniforms!"  
  
  
  
"Okay," Adley half-whispered.  
  
  
  
Uncle Harnon turned to address Merry. "You'll have to come with us, girl," he said abrasively. "We can't leave you with any of the neighbors because they don't want you any more, and it's dangerous to leave you in this house alone." He lowered his voice. "But none of that funny stuff, okay?"  
  
  
  
"Yes, sir," Merry replied, afraid to contradict him.  
  
  
  
"Good."  
  
  
  
And so began the wondrous day that would be the turning point in Merry Chotter's life. 


	2. An Adventure at the Zoo

MERRY CHOTTER AND THE DRUM MAJOR'S STONE  
  
By Callie the Crazy Band Child  
  
Rating: PG (upped for some cheerleader/drill-team comments I'm anticipating later on)  
  
Chapter Two  
  
Summary: A continuation of Chapter One, upon the same theme, Harry Potter meets Marching Band. Merry, Adley, Harnon, and Melunia go to the zoo, where interesting events occur…  
  
Disclaimer: Merry, Adley, Harnon, Melunia, Polades, and other things I most obviously made up are mine. Marching band isn't mine; it isn't even here right now. So, until it comes back, at least, no suing over that. All things Potter-y used to all be JKR's; now some are hers, some belong to Warner Brothers, etc. I'm not making any money (from this OR anything else), and I don't have much you could sue me for, so there's really no point in trying.  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter Two  
  
  
  
Adley's team, of course, lost their game. The Polades teams never seemed to win; no one was quite sure how they made it to State every year. Despite all of their losses, however, the team spirit was always rampant in the music-less town.  
  
  
  
To celebrate their loss, Uncle Harnon and Aunt Melunia took Adley to the zoo, just as they had promised. Merry, of course, had to tag along, since it was "dangerous" to leave her in the house alone.  
  
  
  
The Polades Zoo was, as usual, fairly empty. The novelty of trapped animals had worn off several years ago, and half of the zoo's creatures were already dead. Adley wrinkled her nose as her family and Merry entered the reptile house.  
  
  
  
"It smells in here," she whined. Along with field hockey, rugby, basketball, and all of Adley's other sports, she was also a cheerleader with a whine to match.  
  
  
  
* Cry me a river, build me a bridge, and get over it, * Merry mumbled to herself, realizing what a horrible cliché it was. To Adley, she sweetly replied, "I'm sorry."  
  
  
  
Uncle Harnon was determined to entertain his prized only child. "Addums! Come look at this wacco lizard!"  
  
  
  
Aunt Melunia joined in. "Wow! Isn't that just wizard!"  
  
  
  
Uncle Harnon's face darkened. "MELUNIA!" he scowled.  
  
  
  
"Sorry, sorry, sorry, Harnon, my love," Melunia came back subserviently.  
  
  
  
Merry was feeling neglected. She was plenty used to not getting any attention besides "Clean this! Wash that!" but today she was getting odd feelings of aloneness and maltreatment. She walked around the reptile house, trying to make herself feel better.  
  
  
  
"CHOTTER!" Uncle Harnon steamed. "What are you doing?"  
  
  
  
Merry didn't know what she was doing to make Uncle Harnon so mad. There were noises coming out of her mouth, but they were nothing to be mad about. Merry heard the noises dance all about, sounding vaguely wrong but still cool. The lizard that Adley was looking at started bobbing its head to the sounds and making its own noise in return. Merry felt sad for the lizard, trapped in the cage and bred in captivity. It was as if the noises brought the lizard's feeling to Merry. They got higher and higher and higher until- --  
  
  
  
Merry watched the glass on the Madagascar Venomous Lizard case silently crack into a million pieces and fall to the ground. She smirked slightly and didn't say anything as Adley leaned forward to look more closely at the brightly colored creature.  
  
  
  
"AHHHH! MUM! DAD!" Adley screamed as she pitched headfirst into the case with the lizard. At the same time, the lizard exited the cage, thanking Merry with a few last noises before waddling off to terrorize some poor tourists.  
  
  
  
"ADDUMS!" Aunt Melunia yelled back, rushing over to the case.  
  
  
  
Uncle Harnon ran over to Merry and grabbed her by the throat. "I told you, girl. None of that mus~" he stopped short.  
  
  
  
"What was that, Uncle Harnon?" Merry asked chokingly.  
  
  
  
Uncle Harnon ignored her and dragged her over to where Melunia was trying to calm Adley down while nearing hyperventilation herself.  
  
  
  
Merry screwed her eyes shut and pictured the glass coming back to the case, leaving Adley trapped inside. She started to smile, just a little bit, and thought about it even harder.  
  
  
  
All of a sudden, a muffled shriek from her cousin made Merry's eyes pop open and her brain spring back to reality. Adley was pounding on the cage, her eyes bulging and her face bright red with anger.  
  
  
  
Uncle Harnon, of course, was none too happy about this. Merry was slightly reminded of a scene from a movie that she had sneaked glances at parts of while cleaning the kitchen. Because Merry always saw just bits and pieces of films that her uncle, aunt and cousin were watching while Merry worked, she couldn't quite place the clip. Perhaps it was from "Bedknobs and Broomsticks."  
  
  
  
No, that wasn't right.  
  
  
  
Oh, she could see the film in her head now. A twelve-year-old boy with a really demented scar and a British accent. But oh, what was his name? Parry Hotter, perhaps.  
  
  
  
Merry had no more time to waste thinking of movies. Uncle Harnon had given the lone zookeeper a hefty sum of cash to rescue his beloved daughter from the lizard cage. In Uncle Harnon's eyes, money could do anything. The Ürsley family was climbing into their woody station wagon. Uncle Harnon was dragging Merry by the ear and proceeded to throw her in the trunk.  
  
  
  
The ride back home was a bumpy one, but Merry barely noticed. Through the hole in her trunk, she could see something odd looking flying overhead. Merry couldn't be sure, but she thought she could see a letter clutched in its talons. All of a sudden, a vision flashed through her head. It went by very quickly, and Merry wasn't very experience in visions yet, but she could tell that the letter was very important.  
  
  
  
It was a good thing that she had received the vision, and not Uncle Harnon.  
  
  
  
A/N: Well, there you go. Chapter Two. I hope you liked it, and I hope that you review! Many thanks to ravenslyth, SilverSerpent, Crimson Angel, Tempered-Grief, hobbitsNhufflepuff, Bookworm12357, and Mae-Lynn Moodle for reviewing Chapter One! 


	3. The Post Office Must've Gone Crazy

MERRY CHOTTER AND THE DRUM MAJOR'S STONE  
  
By Cassie the Crazy Band Child (sorry for calling myself Callie in the last chapter… don't know where that came from!)  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Chapter Three  
  
Summary: Things only get weirder for Merry and the Ürsleys.  
  
Disclaimer: Same as usual. If I owned Harry Potter and crew, I'd be doing better things with my life than writing second-rate fan fiction.  
  
  
  
Chapter Three  
  
  
  
After Merry and the Ürsleys rushed out of the zoo and had a "word" with the head of security there, they went to the mall to buy Adley's team new uniforms, just as Aunt Melunia had promised. Shortly afterwards, they arrived back at 24 Rivet Place, the Ürsley's home. As Uncle Harnon read the sports section of the paper, Aunt Melunia watched the most recent cheerleading competition on TV, and Adley studied her basketball playbook for her next game, Merry went out to collect the mail.  
  
  
  
Just as Merry approached the mailbox used by the Ürsleys and seven of their neighbours, the Polades Post Office mail truck pulled up. The mail carrier, having seen Merry before and heard nasty rumours about her from the people of Polades, knew that she had come for the Ürsley's mail. He silently handed her a bundle of sports magazines for Uncle Harnon, the field hockey field mum snack schedule for Aunt Melunia, and a new mouthguard for Adley.  
  
  
  
Among the mail, however, was something new, Merry noticed as she pried open the Ürsley's door with her foot. The address read, in elegant calligraphy much like that used in the 18th century:  
  
Merry Chotter  
  
The Drippy Cupboard Beneath the Sink  
  
24 Rivet Drive  
  
Polades, Maryland 21014 (A/N: I know that's the ZIP for Bel Air, MD, but it's close enough!)  
  
USA  
  
  
  
Merry tossed the rest of the mail down on Harnon, Melunia, and Adley's TV dinner trays as she slid her finger under the flap of the letter to open it.  
  
  
  
Adley jumped up, snatching it from her hand. "Daddy! Daddy! Merry's got a letter!"  
  
  
  
Uncle Harnon looked up in shock. "The little~" he started.  
  
  
  
Merry jumped to her own defense. It was becoming increasingly obvious that no one else was going to. "It's mine! It has my name on it!"  
  
  
  
"YOU TWIT!" Uncle Harnon screamed. "Give me that letter! NOW!" Before waiting for her permission, Merry's uncle grabbed the piece of mail out of her hands.  
  
  
  
Merry shrieked softly, then ran for the kitchen to curl up in her cabinet. Just as she was about to climb in, twenty or thirty letters, identical to the one Uncle Harnon was throwing in the fire, flew in the back door that Adley had opened to go practice juggling a soccer ball. Almost immediately, Uncle Harnon was behind his slight niece. Merry heard the loud SLAM! of her cupboard door almost at the exact same time she felt her uncle grab the collar of her hand-me-down shirt.  
  
  
  
"So!" he began, venting his anger quite openly. "They think they can find you in your cabinet, eh? We can stop that, you know." He paused for a moment to think, something the Ürsley family was not very practiced at doing.  
  
  
  
"Congratulations, Merry!" Aunt Melunia cried out spontaneously. "However, you'd better get moving your things if you're going to get to sleep tonight."  
  
  
  
"Me? Move? Where?" Merry was drowning in happiness at the thought of finally leaving the hellhole she could never call home.  
  
  
  
"Didn't we tell you?" Aunt Melunia asked, about to crush all of Merry's hopes and dreams. "You're moving up to Adley's second-backup team dressing room in the back attic. We decided you'd outgrown that," she paused to find the "right" word, "homey cupboard beneath the sink. Start packing your bags, niece!"  
  
  
  
*Like I've got much to pack* Merry muttered to herself as she grabbed the ragtag pillow and her mother's locket, the entire contents of her hole-in- the-wall "bedroom." In her peripheral vision, she caught Uncle Harnon giving his wife a questioning look. She flashed him another Look and some sort of hand signal in reply.  
  
  
  
"Oh, go right ahead upstairs, dear!" Aunt Melunia said sillily as she noticed Merry watching the odd exchange between herself and her husband.  
  
  
  
So Merry did. The second flight of stairs, a splintery wooden ladder that reached up into the Ürsley's back attic, was rather shaky, but Merry still made it up to her new residence rather safely.  
  
  
  
~*the next day*~  
  
  
  
The first thing that Merry Chotter saw when she opened her eyes was something wispy and white hanging over her head. At first, she thought she had finally died and gone to heaven, but she was soon to be corrected. In fact, the white "cloud" was only a soccer-sock from Adley's days in the pee- wee soccer league.  
  
  
  
Merry glanced outside and judged from the sun that it was already six thirty in the morning. "Crap, crap, crap, crap, CRAP…" she muttered as she ran down the two flights of stairs to the kitchen. When she got there and saw Uncle Harnon and Aunt Melunia sitting at the table with no food, a sinking feeling crept into her gut.  
  
  
  
"Sorry, sorry, sorry…" she apologized quickly and semi-earnestly. "I'll tend to breakfast right away…"  
  
  
  
Aunt Melunia had a look of shock similar to that a first-year actor might wear in an attempt to look scared. "Child! What are you talking about? It's ADLEY'S morning to make the breakfast!"  
  
  
  
Merry glanced over into the kitchen. Sure enough, her slightly-older cousin was busy at the stovetop, cooking up some sort of lovely petit dejeuner. When Adley heard her mother's comment, she shot daggers at Merry with her eyes. The look turned quickly to one of spun sugar when Aunt Melunia noticed, however.  
  
  
  
The bacon, eggs, and pancakes had barely been set down on the kitchen table when the front door flew open. Uncle Harnon began to stand up to go shut it, but he was almost immediately forced back into his seat by a strong gust of wind. A baffled look dashed across his face as hundreds of letters flew in the door. A similar flock of mail coming from the fireplace met them.  
  
  
  
Merry managed to catch one just long enough to read the address on the front. It now read:  
  
Merry Chotter  
  
The Backup Dressing Room in the Back Attic  
  
24 Rivet Drive  
  
Polades, Maryland 21014  
  
USA  
  
  
  
Just as it had been with the first letter, Uncle Harnon tore the post out of Merry's hand as she attempted to make a dash for her attic. Instead of sticking around to compost the mail, Uncle Harnon threw Merry under one sweaty armpit and Adley under the other. Without so much as a grunt, he carried them out to the car, Aunt Melunia following close behind.  
  
  
  
"Well," Uncle Harnon announced decisively, "I always knew that time-share in Green Bay would come in handy one day."  
  
  
  
If only getting away from the letters and the institution behind them was that simple.  
  
  
  
A/N: Okay that's it for Chapter Three. Hopefully I'll have Four done soon, where I'll get Merry off to the Band School place. (Music and magic… what a dangerous combination!) Please review; I'll love you forever! Thanks to those who reviewed Chapter Two:  
  
  
  
Rosaline:Thanks! Sorry I didn't post sooner...  
  
Michelle: Is that your real e-mail address? Just wondering...  
  
Crimson Angel: You're back! Yay! Glad you like it!  
  
Kanoi: Next chapter. I promise, next chapter!  
  
Mae-Lynn Moodle: You're back too! Yay! A clarinut? You wish!  
  
Rannchan: Woohoo, someone's having fun laughing!  
  
Melissa: Yay! You read something of mine besides TI! *doesn't want to come to attention* 


	4. Beautiful Green Bay

MERRY CHOTTER AND THE DRUM MAJOR'S STONE (title due to change if I feel so inspired)  
  
By Cassie the Crazy Band Child  
  
Chapter Four  
  
Summary: The moment everyone's been waiting for: Merry heads off to school.  
  
Disclaimer: The usual. It's not mine, it's not mine, it's not mine, except for the following: Merry Chotter, the Ürsleys, Polades, etc. If you have any doubts, here's the most probable answer: it's not mine. If you really want to make a big stink out of it, email me (schroeder023@juno.com / frothychocolateshake@angelfire.com) or IM me (ThatLilBandChild) and we'll chat.  
  
  
  
CHAPTER FOUR  
  
The bad news was obvious: it's a long, long drive from central Maryland to Green Bay, Wisconsin. It got even worse for our heroine, Merry Chotter. This long, long drive was to be spent in an ugly old station wagon with a cousin who hated her, an aunt who hated her AND felt the need to file her toenails the entire trip, and an uncle who hated her, bit his fingernails the whole way, AND, being a football coach, made the entire vehicle smell perfectly putrid.  
  
The good news was there too, despite the seemingly complete desolacy of the situation: Merry Chotter, for the first time in her life, wasn't stuffed in the trunk of said station wagon. The seats were not exactly as comfortable as she had imagined, but her position was definitely beneficial to those she had held before.  
  
Several hours after leaving their home in Polades, Maryland, Merry Chotter and the Ürsley family arrived in Green Bay with only the clothes on their backs and a small suitcase for the four of them. Uncle Harnon's time-share property was a lovely little place with plenty of trees. The only problem? It was being used.  
  
"I knew I should have called ahead," he muttered angrily. "I'm sure there will be a hotel nearby that's even better," was his reassurance to his wife, daughter, and niece. The three nodded dutifully and waited as he pulled out his cell phone. After twenty-seven calls and forty-nine whispered curses, he flashed a falsely bright smile. "I've got us a room right nearby for the night."  
  
"That's lovely, Daddy. Where?" asked Adley with hope of something five- star shining in her perfectly Aryan blue eyes.  
  
Harnon stalled for a moment. "It's. a lovely place quite near to here. It'll be a surprise."  
  
"I love surprises!" exclaimed his wife, Melunia, with child-like rapture. She was, after all, the cheerleading coach.  
  
Harnon just smiled then squealed out of the time-share parking lot. Ritzy hotel after ritzy hotel was passed with hopeful glances. Finally, Adley and Melunia accepted that the rich part of town was behind them and set their sights on places that held a slightly lower standard. Their expectations kept sinking farther and farther towards their feet.  
  
Even the worst residence they could have ever imagined could not have compared to Uncle Harnon's residence of choice. As he pulled up to the main office, the three women in the car all prayed quite earnestly that he only be asking for directions or something of the sort.  
  
Five minutes later, he came back to the car with an incredibly forced- looking smile on his face. "All right, I've got our room key. The woman who checked us in gave me fairly clear directions. It looks as if our room is fairly. remote."  
  
Aunt Melunia forced herself to act cheerful as well - for the sake of the children, if not her marriage. "Well, that's nice, Harnie. That way we can't be bothered by horrid little hooligans in the middle of the night. Girls, thank my beloved husband for working so hard to make us happy."  
  
"Thank you, Uncle Harnon," Merry acknowledged.  
  
Adley just pouted. Of course, her mother noticed without even turning around. "Now, Addums, what's the matter wif my widdle baby?"  
  
The child in question sniffled miserably. "Mummy, I have a championship rugby match tomorrow and I'm not going to be there all because of HER!" Adley's slim, perfectly-manicured-despite-her-earlier-hockey-game finger pointed accusingly at her cousin.  
  
"Now, Adley, I'll just have a chat with the referees tonight and have them reschedule it for you. You know I'll do anything for you, baby. Thank you for being so understanding about our. situation. with Merry right now. Your kindness will be rewarded." Melunia was trying her hardest to keep Adley from throwing a tantrum.  
  
Adley gave one last pathetic sniffle. "Okay, Mum. Thank you for understanding."  
  
Melunia smiled back as the station wagon's brakes squealed. "Well, this is it!" Harnon exclaimed.  
  
"It" was a Motel Eight room second-from-the-end of the block. The rooms above it and to either side and diagonal were all marked with signs that simply read "CONDEMNED." The room in which our wandering travelers were to stay was marked "ONE WEEK NOTICE." All ready, Merry was feeling sick to her stomach.  
  
As Uncle Harnon inserted the key and opened the door, five or six cockroaches skittered out. Adley screamed and Aunt Melunia instantly grabbed her daughter. After Uncle Harnon had cleaned the room of spiderwebs, the quartet entered. Harnon and Melunia claimed one bed for themselves and Adley was gifted with the other. Merry, of course, had to sleep on the dirty floor.  
  
Time passed quickly with delivered pizza and bad TV. Before long, the three Ürsleys were asleep and Merry was alone again - naturally. (Sorry, that song was on the radio today and now it's stuck in my head.) It was her 11th birthday and no one had even cared to remember. Usually she'd get a bacon grease candle or some old socks or something, but this year. nothing. Using only the dim light from the fireflies that were abundant in the dingy motel room, Merry drew herself an envelope in the dust on the floor. It was as identical as those Uncle Harnon had destroyed as Merry could make it. If only she could know what those letters had said. If only she could know why they threatened her adopted family so. If only -  
  
Her train of thought had barely left the station when the rickety door fell down only inches from her right ear. Merry looked up and saw a silhouette in the doorway. Before she could ask questions, something flitted down to the floor in front of her. She didn't even have to look to know what it was - a letter just like the one she had so crudely drawn.  
  
  
  
  
  
A/N: Okay, I lied. She didn't quite get to school in this chapter. I really was trying, though, and as you can tell, I'm awfully close. It's just getting late and I'm getting tired, okay? Now, thanks to those of you who reviewed Chapter Three:  
  
Elvenking: All right then. Glad to know you love me :)  
  
Someone: Here ya go.  
  
Anonymous: I won't, I promise. Unless he's, like, evil or something. But no one in this story needs to schircle any wagons.  
  
Ben: Well, call me a band nerd then. So-orry.  
  
A Flutist You Know: Actually, I haven't picked a section yet. But I think it's going to be brass.  
  
Madam X: I'm hurrying! I'm hurrying!  
  
Sirk: Okey dokey then.  
  
Bookworm12357: Interesting. that's what I do!  
  
Sara: It's coming, it's coming!  
  
Rannchan: Glad you're still reading it. Will send you an email as soon as I finish this.  
  
Rosaline: Band and ANYTHING makes a wonderful combination. 


	5. Who's the Guy with the Haggis-Face?

MERRY CHOTTER AND THE DRUM MAJOR'S STONE  
  
By Cassie the Crazy Band Child  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Chapter Five  
  
Summary: The moment we've all been waiting for. Merry gets carted off to the magical, musical school of Smog-Hurts.  
  
Disclaimer: The usual. I own nothing except for the pretty white marching shoes I just polished randomly the other day. Even my horn belongs to the school district.  
  
  
  
CHAPTER FIVE  
  
  
  
Finally, Merry shook off her feelings of anxiety and asked in a quivering voice, "Who are you?"  
  
The silhouette entered the room. It belonged to a man who was on the tall side of tall and could certainly get some help from Jenny Craig. He was dressed in torn clothes that may once have been nice and, when he finally spoke, his voice was deep and rumbled. "My name is Haggis-face."  
  
Merry contemplated that for a second and decided that the name didn't fit. The man's face was the only semi-attractive part of him. He continued, slowly. "I've come to get you. I was sent by Smog-Hurts."  
  
Confusion rippled across Merry's face. "Smo-WHAT?" she couldn't help but ask in a rather incredulous tone.  
  
"Smog-Hurts," Haggis-face repeated simply. "Y'know? Magically enchanted school? Located in the middle of nowhere? Music? Magic? The greatest conductor in the world, Albus Stumblemore?" When Merry's face didn't show any signs of understanding, he sighed deeply. "Oh, come on. Don't tell me they," he motioned to the slumbering Ürsleys, "didn't tell you about SMOG- HURTS!"  
  
Merry nodded shyly. "Is that a bad thing?"  
  
"For you it is. Where did you think your parents learned it all? At the bloody HIGH SCHOOL?" Haggis-face's voice was getting louder and louder.  
  
At that, Uncle Harnon, Aunt Melunia, and cousin Adley all awoke with a start. "Who are you?" Adley asked incredulously.  
  
"Don't take her!" Aunt Melunia cried. "I don't want my sister's child poisoned like she was."  
  
"Aw, let the kid go," Uncle Harnon argued. "She's nothing but trouble, anyway."  
  
Merry wasn't sure which adult to side with; Melunia was showing a bit of compassion, but Harnon was giving her freedom.  
  
"Your parents, Merry," Haggis-face reminded her, "were some of Smog-Hurts' greatest students. They excelled in both music and magic. If they hadn't been killed by~"  
  
He was interrupted by the preteen on the floor. "They were KILLED? Uncle Harnon and Aunt Melunia told me they were in a car collision with a milk truck!"  
  
Haggis-face laughed mockingly. "A car crash? A car crash kill Jillie and Thames Chotter? Well, they were lactose intolerant." He started to chuckle.  
  
"HAGGIS-FACE!" Merry yelled angrily. "These are my parents you're talking about! And you said Thames, like it rhymes with James. Don't you mean Thames, rhymes with Gems, like the river?"  
  
"Nope," Haggis-face assured her. "It's Thames, like James. Your dad was just weird like that."  
  
"Uh, okay," Merry replied. "So my parents went to this Smog-Hurts school thing and then they got killed? And you're thinking I WANT to follow in their footsteps?"  
  
"Relax, relax. Smog-Hurts has a very low death rate, mainly because no Buggles know where we are. You'll be safe there, especially with Stumblemore in charge. Besides, would you rather stay with THEM?"  
  
"Too true," Merry replied. "But what, exactly, are Buggles?"  
  
Haggis-face sighed again. "You really don't know anything, do you? Buggles are tone-deaf, unmagical folk. Now we really must get to Try-again Alley if you're going to make it to Smog-Hurts."  
  
"I don't have any money to buy school supplies," Merry whined.  
  
Haggis-face gave his third, heaving sigh. "Child! You have rich, dead parents. You think they left you NOTHING?"  
  
"Right," Merry replied. "Let's go, then. Bye, Aunt Melunia. Bye, Uncle Harnon. Bye, Adley!"  
  
"Oh, yeah, I brought you a birthday present, too. From the gang at Smog- Hurts," Haggis-face remembered. He handed Merry a long, thin box that looked like it came from the jewelry store.  
  
She opened it slowly; after all, it was her first real birthday present. Inside was a silver necklace with a charm dangling off. The shape of the charm was unfamiliar though, so Merry had to ask one last question. "What on earth is that charm supposed to be?"  
  
Haggis-face sighed a sigh that made his other sighs invisible. "It's a MUSIC NOTE. I can tell you've got a lot to learn."  
  
With that, the pair left the old hotel room.  
  
  
  
A/N: Okay, they're on their way. No reviews to thank. That's it! Sorry it's so short. the next one will be longer. I promise! 


	6. On to Try-Again Alley...

MERRY CHOTTER AND THE DRUM MAJOR'S STONE  
  
By Cassie the Crazy Band Child  
  
Rating: PG (Good, clean band fun. if there ever was such a thing.)  
  
Chapter Six  
  
Summary: Our favourite band nerd prepares to start her year at Smog-Hurts.  
  
Disclaimer: I'm not making any money from this. I have no money, period. Basically I just stole a bunch of characters from JKR, band-itized them, and had a little fun. What can you sue me for? Um. you can have my brother?!?!?  
  
  
  
CHAPTER SIX  
  
On the way to downtown New York City, Merry couldn't help but pepper Haggis- face with questions. "Why is it called Try-again Alley?"  
  
"Because only people from Smog-Hurts and similar schools can get to it. Our mottoes all run along the same lines, and "Try-Again Alley" sounded better than "Don't Stop Boulevard.""  
  
"Why is this school called Smog-Hurts, anyway, if it's all about magic and music?"  
  
Haggis-face took a deep breath. "It's our front against the Buggles. Should any of them accidentally wander through our many layers of magical security, we simply present ourselves as an environmentally caring front who wants to move the entire world into battery-powered cars. By the time you've been at the school for a few years, you'll be able to fool them as well as anyone."  
  
"Where is Smog-Hurts?"  
  
"In a secret location that's been bewitched."  
  
"Why did I get picked to attend? And how did you guys find me?"  
  
"Whoops, here we are. No more time for pesky questions. Welcome to New York City, Merry Chotter."  
  
"Uh, thanks, Haggis-face. So, where is this Try-Again Alley?"  
  
The Smog-Hurts representative just smiled mysteriously. "Follow me." He stepped into the busy city streets and led the young, unsuspecting girl to a relatively lonely coffee shop most people seemed not to even notice. Its storefront barely took up any space, but the shop inside was huge and booming with people.  
  
"Hello, Haggis-face," several of them greeted the tall man.  
  
"What can I get for you, HF?" asked the guy behind the counter.  
  
"Nothing today," Haggis-face replied. "I'm on official Smog-Hurts business."  
  
"Well, okay. If you insist. But come back soon!"  
  
Haggis-face and Merry were almost at the back of the shop when murmurs started to ripple through the crowd. She could only hear snatches of what they said, but she was sure she heard her name in the mess of voices somewhere.  
  
Finally, her suspicions and guesses were answered when one brave soul cried out, "Is that you, Merry Chotter?"  
  
She turned around shyly. "Why, yes, but. how do you know my name?"  
  
Everyone started to laugh happily. "Why, Ms. Chotter, you're a celebrity among our kind. How long have you been in the Buggle world for?" a short woman answered kindly.  
  
Immediately, people started coming up to Merry and patting her on the back or shaking her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Chotter," was the most oft-heard remark. "I've been waiting years for this," was a close second, though.  
  
One odd-looking man with an awfully large beret on spoke with a speech impediment. "It'sh a pleashure to meet you, Mewwy." Merry reached out to shake his hand, too, but he withheld the limb.  
  
Finally, Haggis-face interceded on Merry's behalf. "All right, all right," he boomed. "Merry Chotter and I have to get shopping for school supplies. You know how it works." His voice boomed over all of the others in the shop and everyone became reduced to whispers again. "Let's go," he said more softly to the child who was dwarfed by his great height. He led her into a small back room and approached a seemingly solid plaster wall. Haggis-face made strange noises come out of his mouth and tapped a pattern on the plaster. The wall immediately opened into a booming center of selling, buying, and generally being excited.  
  
"Here they are, Merry Chotter. The musical wizards and witches of America."  
  
Merry was quite impressed by what was in front of her. So many people. were they just like her? "Where do we go first?" she asked.  
  
Haggis-face consulted the list in front of him. "I'd say we go to Lady Loaner's to pick you up the appropriate clothing?"  
  
"The appropriate clothing?" Merry questioned, but Haggis-face gave no answer. He simply escorted her to the named shop.  
  
A fairly spry, motherly-looking woman approached Merry as she entered the store. "Hello, I'm Lady Loaner. Are you starting your first year at Smog- Hurts at last, Merry Chotter?"  
  
Merry was a bit taken aback that this woman, too, knew who she was, but she managed to croak out a simple, "Yes."  
  
"Well, then, we'd better find you the proper attire. You'll need some nice robes for school days and some shorts - no short shorts, mind you - for practice when it's warm. Then, of course, a nice array of T-shirts. We can't have any white ones, though, for fear of rain. A jacket for when you get your letter and patches, of course. One white T-shirt and pair of shorts for under your uniform, and one nice white marching uniform. A dress for concert season should finish you off!"  
  
'Wow,' thought Merry. 'I don't think I've ever had that many clothes in my life!' Before she knew it, Lady Loaner had found her all of the clothes she had mentioned in sizes that fit. "That's got to be it, right?" she asked incredulously.  
  
"For clothes, yes," Lady Loaner assured her. Merry was just about to heave a sigh of relief when Lady Loaner continued, "You'll need accessories, though. Marching gloves and white marching shoes and black concert shoes and a garment bag, of course."  
  
"Of course," Merry echoed tiredly. Sure enough, she was fully equipped with everything a magical band nerd needs by the time Haggis-face gathered her parcels and led her to the next shop. She glanced at the name above the door and shivered. "Wait a minute. I need to secure ASSORTED ANIMAL AND PLANT PARTS before I go to school? And a CAULDRON? Where am I going, to the funny farm?"  
  
Haggis-face gave her a blank stare.  
  
"Sorry, I guess you'd call it a Buggle Thing." Merry had just had her first experience of being alienated from the musical, magical world she was getting ready to jump headfirst into.  
  
  
  
A/N: Okay, there you go, my third chapter today. I think I deserve some reviews for that! I have one thing to say, though: I've received a lot of requests along the lines of "email me when you post again!" I'm really trying, but sometimes I don't get everyone. So, if you'd like to be notified when there's a new chapter, please email me at frothychocolateshake@angelfire.com and I'll be sure to let you know every chapter after that.  
  
Many thanks to Lori, the only review I've received so far. I'm so glad you like my story and want to pass it on! You're very welcome! 


	7. Platform One and One Half (Dotted Quarte...

MERRY CHOTTER AND THE DRUM MAJOR'S STONE  
  
By Kate  
  
Rating: PG (Hooray! Fun for the whole family! Just like "My Big Fat Greek Wedding," the best movie of the summer!)  
  
Chapter Seven  
  
Summary: Merry heads off to that strangely wonderful world called Smog- Hurts.  
  
A/N: I'm back! Thanks to reviewers at the end!  
  
Disclaimer: Yeah, it's all mine. That's right. Everything. All the Harry Potter stuff, all the marching band stuff, all the common sense. All of it. That's why I'm sitting here with not even enough money to go to the book store. Right.  
  
CHAPTER SEVEN  
  
Several hours after arriving at Try-Again Alley, Merry Chotter was equipped with more clothes and equipment than she ever knew existed. As Haggis-face led her back out into the "real" world (a.k.a., that of the Buggles), he pulled out the list of supplies she had been sent by the people in charge at Smog-Hurts.  
  
"One standard-size cauldron," he read.  
  
"Check," Merry replied, glancing into the cart in front of her.  
  
"One parrot, owl, or cat," was next on the list. (They're the noisy animals, after all.)  
  
"Check," squawked Merry's new pet parrot, Earlice.  
  
"Beginning potions ingredients, school robes, and pointy wizard's hat."  
  
"Got all three of 'em, Haggis-face."  
  
"White marching uniform with medallion, practice clothes, concert trash-bag dress, marching shoes, concert shoes, letter jacket, hatbox, shako, plume, gloves, socks, hose, and school clothes."  
  
"Thirteen-uple check." Merry's cart was full to the brim with Smog-Hurts supplies and she was sure that there was nothing missing.  
  
"And the rest got sent ahead," Haggis-face concluded. "It looks like we've got everything here, Merry. Now I've just got to drop you off at the bus station and I'll meet you back at Smog-Hurts."  
  
"Uh, Haggis-face?" Merry asked in a doubtful voice.  
  
"Yes, m'dear?"  
  
"About this bus. I don't need a TICKET, by any chance, do I?"  
  
"Right, right, right. There's what I forgot. Good thing you remembered or Stumblemore'd have my head, y'know."  
  
They were just arriving at the bus station, so Haggis-face handed Merry her ticket and began to give her instructions. "There's a whole section of the bus for first-years like yourself, so don't be scared. Try and meet people. And remember, make sure everything from your cart gets on the bus."  
  
"Good stuff," Merry replied, glancing at her ticket. "Now, can you tell me which way to go to get to Platform Number," she paused to check the number, "One and a half? Haggis-face, I'm sure there's no platform one and a half." She looked up to confirm this, but the large marching tech was gone. Merry sighed and entered the crowd inside the station. By the time she reached Platform Two, she could tell that there was no 1 ½ to be seen. A station employee was nearby, though, so she stopped to ask for directions.  
  
"Excuse me, sir, but how can I find Platform One and One-Half?" Merry asked earnestly.  
  
"Stupid kids," the employee muttered. "There's no place for your jokes here," he informed Merry. "Go run in the streets and get hit by a car."  
  
"Thanks a lot," Merry called to the man's now-turned back. She started to pace between Platforms One and Two when she heard a loud, clear woman's voice.  
  
"Now, now, here we go again. Back to school for the lot of you. If only all these Buggles wouldn't have so many places to go, so fast, I could say a proper good-bye."  
  
Merry's ears locked in on the word "Buggles." Haggis-face had used that word to describe tone-dear, nonmagical folk, so, logically, the woman who had been complaining about Buggles wouldn't be one of them.  
  
She stepped around a pillar to see a whole family of redheads lined up between Platform One and Platform Two. "Uh, excuse me," Merry requested shyly. "Are you - can you - um - I'm"  
  
"You must be headed for Smog-Hurts," the woman said kindly.  
  
Merry nodded, still rather bashful.  
  
"That's okay, dear, it's Rynn's first time, too." The child named seemed to be the youngest girl, looking rather frightened.  
  
"Hi," Rynn said softly.  
  
Merry nodded in reply as the woman continued. "My name is Dolly Feasibly. This is Pearcy - she's a Squad Leader this year, the twins are Freida and Georgia, and this little one is Linny - he's staying with me for one more year."  
  
"That's great, but, uh, could you."  
  
"Show you how to get on the platform?" Mrs. Feasibly finished for the baffled girl. "Sure. You just walk straight through that pillar right there." The pillar mentioned was part of what a band nerd would recognize as a dotted quarter note. To Merry, it just looked solid. "It's best to do it at a sort of run if you're nervous. Pearcy, why don't you go first?"  
  
Smoothing the white dot on her robe that showed that she was a Squad Leader, Pearcy headed straight for the pillar. Merry cringed as the older girl got close to the brick structure, but Pearcy and her cart just disappeared when they should have been colliding.  
  
"Georgia, you can go next," Mrs. Feasibly decided, motioning to one of the twins.  
  
The twin in question lined up in front of the pillar, then threw a roguish grin toward her mother. "I'm not Georgia. I'm Freida. Gosh, woman, to think you call yourself our mother!"  
  
Mrs. Feasibly sighed. "Fine. Whoever you are, go before the bus leaves."  
  
"Just kidding. I really am Georgia," she laughed as she took off into the pillar. Freida followed within seconds.  
  
"Here, dear, why don't you give it a try?" Mrs. Feasibly offered Merry.  
  
"Okay," Merry said shakily. She grabbed her cart and began to walk calmly in the direction of the pillar. Losing her confidence, she broke into a flat-out run and went soaring towards the wall - into the wall -through the wall?  
  
All of a sudden, Merry found herself on a much cleaner, happier platform. Everyone there had carts with similar supplies and was dressed in school robes like Merry's. An air of excitement was evident as Merry looked around in wonder. Just as she moved away from the pillar through which she had arrived, Rynn came flying through.  
  
"Why, hello again," the redheaded girl greeted Merry with a big, dimpled grin.  
  
"Hey," Merry replied, becoming a bit more at ease with the whole situation. She watched both of their luggage get loaded onto the bus. "I guess we can board now."  
  
"Yeah, the first years have to sit in the front. Seventh-years get the back, but some people get back there earlier. We're all in the front, though." Rynn sounded as if she was used to this.  
  
Merry followed Rynn down the platform, smiling at the bright sign with the large "1 ½" on it. Before long, they found empty seats and settled down in them. "Man, these seats are ghetto. I mean, you'd think they could replace the fabric every twenty years."  
  
"Ghetto?" Rynn asked. "As in, nasty homes for exiled Jews?"  
  
"Not quite," Merry replied, "but I guess words like that are lost on you non-Buggle folk."  
  
Rynn just stared out the window as the bus pulled away. This was hard, as their garment bags were covering most of it, but Rynn still managed.  
  
A while later, a sixth- or seventh-year came walking down the aisle with a big bag of candy. "Help pay for Spring Trip! I have sugar!" he called out. Stopping at each seat, the student seemed to be doing pretty well, money-wise. As he came to Merry and Rynn, the boy asked, "Anything for the trip, guys?" (A/N: I'm Canadian. We call everyone "guys" instead of that "y'all" or "you all" or "youse guys" stuff they do in the States.)  
  
Rynn held up a tuna-fish sandwich that was pretty squished and awfully bad- smelling. "No, thanks. I'm all set."  
  
Merry took one look at Rynn, one look at the bag, and one look at the money she had left over from shopping. "We'll take some of everything," she decided.  
  
The student grinned and started handing Merry the yummy, sugary goodness. Rynn helped her count out the still-foreign money she had gotten from Bring Your Dots, the bank on Try-Again Alley.  
  
After the candy-seller left, Merry looked at the assortment in front of her. "So, what is all of this stuff?" she asked Rynn.  
  
"The stuff that's gonna save your life," Rynn answered with a wry smile.  
  
  
  
A/N: Okay, that's it for now. Many thanks for reviews to the following lovely people:  
  
Mellie: I figured the punishment for magic outside of Smog-Hurts would have to be heavier than Hogwarts and I didn't want any big trouble going on. You know how much band loves to punish :o)  
  
Rosaline: Somebody's feeling nice today! *sighs* Glad someone appreciates me. lol  
  
MK: Hi!  
  
Texas Rio Star: Hey, I live in Texas too! *shudder*  
  
Lori: Well, if you think your friends would like it. have 'em read it!  
  
Some one: Is this the same "someone" as before?  
  
Adulaith: Deep breath. deep breath. be careful there. 


	8. They're Almost There...

MERRY CHOTTER AND THE DRUM MAJOR'S STONE  
  
By Kate  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Chapter Eight  
  
Summary: At last, we meet the rest of the lovely cast and see, for the first time, the beautiful world that is Smog-Hurts.  
  
A/N: Reviewer thanks at the end. I love band camp! Hooray for not being a freshman anymore!  
  
Disclaimer: If I owned marching band, I'd make sure I got my own spot this year. If I owned Harry Potter, I'd buy "Blue Avenger and the Theory of Everything" and "This Lullaby" instead of just reading them at the bookstore. But I don't. So there.  
  
  
  
CHAPTER EIGHT  
  
Despite the fact that bus seats are about the hardest place in the world to fall asleep (A/N: Example: me, going to Colorado. Icky.), Rynn was pretty close to snoring a few hours into the trip from New York City to the mysterious Smog-Hurts. Merry was feeling a bit drowsy herself when she felt something very sharp bite down on the knuckle of her right index finger. "OWWWW!" she groaned, shocking Rynn back into reality.  
  
"What? Who's hexing you?" Rynn asked immediately.  
  
Merry smiled slightly, realizing that she may have been just a BIT melodramatic. "No one. It's okay, Rynn. Something just. bit me."  
  
Rynn grinned back. "Oh, that's just Clotty, my hand-me-down parrot." She turned her attention away from Merry and towards the bird. "Clotty! C'mere!"  
  
At her master's call, the ratty-looking bird came limping out from Merry's seat. With faded feathers and dull eyes, the parrot wasn't exactly the pick of the litter.  
  
"Sorry," Rynn apologized. "I got her from Pearcy because Pearcy got a new owl for making Squad Leader. She used to be beautiful. But hey, Freida gave me a spell to make her as bright as the rainbow."  
  
"You can already do magic?" Merry asked in disbelief. Maybe she was going to be even farther behind than she had anticipated.  
  
"Just a bit. I've never tried this one, though, so we'll see if it works."  
  
Rynn raised her wand over the parrot and began to recite as a boy ran up to their seat. He had chocolate-brown eyes and unruly brown hair and seemed to be running short on breath.  
  
"Sorry, but have you seen a cat around here anywhere? A girl named Nevilla's lost hers."  
  
"Nope," was the quick reply from both Rynn and Merry.  
  
The boy was just about to leave when he noticed that Rynn had her wand out. "Oh, are you going to do magic? I've read about simple spells but I'd love to see what you can do."  
  
Rynn had no choice now but to perform the spell. Waving her wand around, she muttered, "Lemons, carrots, tomatoes, peas; make this sad bird pretty, please!"  
  
A little spark came out of the end of the wand, making everyone hopeful. Sadly, it just flickered, made a few Pixie Stix explode, and went out.  
  
"Well, as I said," the boy's voice was condescending now, "I've only read a few simple spells, but at least mine WORK." He walked straight over to Merry, pointed his wand at her tattered watch, and recited, "Heureo Repaireo." Instantly, the strap was mended and the face was shiny again.  
  
"Wow, thanks," replied Merry. "I'm Merry Chotter."  
  
"Yeah, I figured," the boy said with a slight wave of his hand. "I'm Aldridge Grainger." He turned to Rynn. "And you are?"  
  
"Rynn Feasibly," Rynn replied, her mouth full of jelly beans.  
  
"Pleasure." Aldridge got ready to finish his search for Nevilla's cat, leaving the two girls with one last piece of advice. "We're getting near the school now, so if I were you, I'd straighten my robes and get my bag ready."  
  
"Sure," Rynn muttered back. Despite her rebellious attitude towards Aldridge's words, she and Merry did, in fact, get ready for their arrival at Smog-Hurts. It was a good thing, too, because the bus soon jolted to a stop. The two girls gathered up their belongings that were with them and hurried off, eager to see the magic of Smog-Hurts for themselves.  
  
Indeed, it was the finest place Merry had ever seen in her life, and she was only at the bus stop. Short little kids in matching outfits (A/N: they're Band-Aids! Too bad we don't have them anymore.) were unloading all the luggage from the cargo hold and preparing it to go to the school. From the line of busses pulled up, what seemed like millions of unfamiliar students were pouring out, all dressed in robes. Merry was awed, but she noticed that Rynn wasn't nearly so excited.  
  
"What's the matter, Rynn?" she asked kindly. "Aren't you glad to be here?"  
  
Rynn grinned, showing all of her teeth. "Of course! I've waited so long to come to Smog-Hurts, ever since Belle and Carly were students here. It's just that this whole scene isn't THAT new to me. There are lots of places like this in our world, and my sisters have always had their school friends over with photographs and the like."  
  
"Wow, you're lucky," Merry was earnest in this statement, but Rynn just laughed.  
  
"Yeah, right! I mean, you've got it made to ace Buggle Studies, seeing as you grew up with them. And teachers are bound to give you a little leeway because of who you are."  
  
"Okay, Rynnie, let me get this straight. You're saying I'm the lucky one in this world when I can't even tell you which coin is which kind of money?"  
  
Rynn chuckled again. "Well, when you put it that way."  
  
Just as Merry was struggling to come up with any sort of witty comment, she heard Haggis-face's voice. "All right, first-years, we're going to begin the Hustle to the Castle. (A/N: Yes, I know it doesn't rhyme. It's band. We don't have time to be poetic.) When I say go, you scream "HUSTLE!" and then we all run across this meadow to the Smog-Hurts castle on the other side. The meadow, like all of the other grounds here, so if you're not really supposed to be at Smog-Hurts, you'll be sent straight back home. And if you're not a fast runner, don't worry - the charms will take care of that."  
  
Merry stretched out her calves, quads, and various other parts of her legs she probably didn't even realize were there. Just as she was beginning to feel loosened up, she heard Haggis-face scream "GO!"  
  
"HUSTLE!" (A/N: If I could put that in big letters, I would. Because band kids are loud. But heck, I can't even get my bolding to show up on FFN. So what's the use?) all of the first-years screamed, a bit pathetically for the Smog-Hurts reputation but, overall, pretty loudly. They took off running across the field.  
  
A/N: Hooray for hustling! We lovely horns (along with the rest of the brass) got to run a lap today because some stupid trombone was late. Many thanks to all my reviewers and even to those who read this story and don't bother to review; I love you guys too!  
  
SilverSerpent: Glad you finally found me and got caught up! And yay, you spelled anticipation right!  
  
ravenslyth: Well, my band doesn't sell candy either; we sell donuts! Krispy Kreme donuts! Yum! But somebody had to be selling the candy and I think we work our band mommies hard enough already. :o)  
  
Rannchan: I don't know if this is what you consider REALLY REALLY SOON, but here's Chapter Eight!  
  
Mellie: I'll explain the whole squad leader/section leader/drum major/marching tech thing later, okay? It all makes sense in my head.  
  
Rosaline: YAY FOR GHETTO-NESS!  
  
adulaith: Our stupid slutty dance team wears white cowboy hats. We wear white shakos WITH chickens and we wear them WITH PRIDE! (Pluck the chicken! Yay CHS!)  
  
ABOUT THE WHOLE TEXAS THING: Wow. I never knew so many people lived here. Of course, considering that it takes 9 hours just to leave the state, I should have figured. Anyway, I live in Coppell and am in the COPPELL HIGH SCHOOL MARCHING BAND! (Dur.) We won State in '99 when we were 4-A, then moved up to 5-A the following year and came in the highest any new band has ever done. Our Honor Band came in 2nd in State for 5-A this past concert season and it's their FIRST TIME to be 5-A! Yay Honor Band! We love you! Um, what else are we famous for? Well, we're gonna win State this year too because that is our Number One Goal and there's no reason why we shouldn't. So when you're at State, look for the big huge band (350 + ) in the pretty white uniforms with silver sashes who WIN and that's gonna be us. Sorry, just had to take some time to brag there. And as for the Hays Band, I think we marching a contest with you guys a while ago, before I was in band, because I think it was on somebody's old contest shirt. But I know I've heard of you somewhere! 


	9. Brasschoir, Windchoir, Drumline, or Guar...

MERRY CHOTTER AND THE DRUM MAJOR'S STONE  
  
By Kate  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Chapter Nine  
  
Summary: Merry arrives at Smog-Hurts, meets many classmates, gets Sorted, and finds out a bit more about her dark and dreary past.  
  
A/N: The scar idea belongs to Rannchan. Many thanks and the rest of my reviewer comments are at the end, as always. Oh, yeah, and Aldridge Grainger is named after Percy Aldridge Grainger, composer of band pieces that have been transcribed for piano instead of the other way around. One of his pieces is "I'll Be Seventeen Come Sunday," which 4th band at my school almost played last year. Oh yeah, and just to say it, I'LL BE FIFTEEN COME SUNDAY! YAY ME! Really, my birthday is on Sunday. Hoorah.  
  
Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, there'd be a marching band in the books. If I owned marching band, we'd be doing a Harry Potter show. Since, other than right here, the two have remained separate entities, I think it's obvious that I have no ownership. Well, here and in Sectionals, where Susanna has her cool Harry Potter pencils with coloured erasers.  
  
CHAPTER NINE:  
  
As Merry hustled towards the opposite side of the meadow, she was wondering when the castle that Smog-Hurts was apparently in would appear. The meadow seemed to go on forever, and, having been cramped in a cupboard under a drippy sink for over ten years, Merry wasn't sure how long her legs could hold out. Just as she was about to give up hope, a huge, ugly building loomed in the distance. Merry took a deep breath and charged on toward the "castle," Rynn at her side.  
  
When all of the First-Years reached the castle doors, they were met by a wise-looking professor. She was tall and stern-looking and greeted the students in a very serious voice. "Good day, first-years. I am Professor Gotthenerva McGoneforgold. I am an Assistant Director for Smog-Hurts as well as the head of Brasschoir House. You will all be sorted momentarily. Until the ceremony begins, you may feel free to chat amongst yourselves.  
  
Merry sighed and brushed her bangs off her hot, sweaty forehead. As her dark brown hair swished back into place, she saw Rynn staring at her forehead, entranced.  
  
"What?" Merry asked, confused.  
  
"So you've really got it." Rynn's voice was dazed.  
  
"Got what?"  
  
"The scar."  
  
"Yeah, so?"  
  
"Merry Chotter, do you know what that scar is?"  
  
Merry was angry now. "Yes, of course I do. It is a token of whatever it was that killed my parents. It's almost like a lightning bolt, but not quite. It is an ugly tissue that mars my face. It is."  
  
Rynn cut her off. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, Chotter. What you don't understand, being raised in the Buggle world and all, is that your 'token' is a sign of your eternal link to OUR world. Your almost-lightning bolt is an EIGHTH REST, one of the fundamentals of who we are, what we do!"  
  
"Yeah, right. Okay, I feel better, you can leave me alone now," Merry replied in a dull monotone.  
  
"I'm serious!" Rynn exclaimed and was about to continue when an extremely blonde girl walked up. The girl had nearly transparent skin and piercing silvery eyes.  
  
"So it's true, what they've been saying. Merry Chotter really HAS come to Smog-Hurts." The girl's voice was as cool and infectious as her eyes.  
  
"That's me." Merry didn't know how she was supposed to respond.  
  
"No kidding." Apparantly Merry's answer had been the wrong one. "I'm Leona Mauvais. I can tell you which sections are the right people . . . and which ones aren't." Leona held out her hand for Merry to shake, which, being polite, the latter did. The former's hand was like ice, cold and smooth. Leona pulled away and turned to Rynn. "I don't need to ask to know that YOU must be a Feasibly. My father's told me all about you: hand- me-down clothes and more children than they can afford."  
  
Rynn cringed almost imperceptibly, but Merry caught the movement in the corner of her eye.  
  
"So, Chotter," Leona challenged, "what do you say? You want to hang out with my kind of people?"  
  
Merry barely paused before answering right back. "I think I can tell the right sections for myself, thank you."  
  
Leona's perfect appearance was shaken, but she quickly straightened her back and put a haughty look back on her face. "Fine, then. Survive by yourself." She turned and went back to her friends.  
  
Just as Leona walked away, McGoneforgold came back to lead the students into the dining hall. "What happens now?" Merry asked Rynn.  
  
"I don't know. I've never been to Smog-Hurts before, but I assume that we're being sorted now. I can't tell you what exactly happens, but Freida and Georgia have told me that it hurts. I just hope it doesn't take to long for my placement to be decided."  
  
"So WHAT are we getting sorted into?" Merry was completely baffled.  
  
"You can be in Brasschoir, Windchoir, Drumline, or Guardo House. My whole family has been in Brasschoir, but Windchoir wouldn't be bad. Guardo House is kind of sissy, but anything's better than Drumline. There hasn't been a single Smog-Hurts graduate busted for drugs who wasn't in Drumline."  
  
Merry was about to ask another question when a shout came through the entire Commons. "Ten-HUT!" Instantly, everyone stood up straight with their chin up and their hands at their sides. Merry just tried to copy them and hang on.  
  
The Commons was completely silent, so Nevilla's scream of "TRAVIS!" echoed greatly throughout the large room. The chubby girl came running forward to scoop up her beloved cat. McGoneforgold shot her an evil look and Nevilla quickly snapped back into attention, only to fall over backwards after achieving the position for a very short time.  
  
"Forward MARCH, Forward MARCH!" was the next command. The first-years were prompted to glide-step from their heels down the centre of the Commons. Because some of them had had no practice, the idea was soon abandoned for just plain walking. Aldridge caught up to Rynn and Merry and began to chat them up.  
  
"Look at the ceiling," Aldridge encouraged the girls. Above them were floating candles against a sky of dusty blue. A light breeze was blowing most comfortably. "It's not really like that. It's just an enchantment they've used. I read all about it in 'The Complete and Total Story of Smog- Hurts.'"  
  
"That's. great, Aldridge," Rynn muttered back.  
  
Aldridge didn't take the hint and continued. "Do you see that man up there with the nasty look on his face? That's Assistant Director Snare. He's the head of Drumline House and rumor has it that he's in leagues with . . . with . . ." Aldridge didn't know how to put it. "With the man that killed Merry's parents." The boy's face held a triumphant look.  
  
"Students, please, be quiet," said a noble voice. Merry and Rynn sighed with relief; Aldridge would have to shut up now. "The Sorting Ceremony will begin in just a moment."  
  
  
  
A/N: And there you have it, Chapter Nine. Sorry I didn't write anymore but I'm still working on the Sorting Shako's song. I'm sure you know where everyone winds up now but oh, well. Yeah, and I left McGonagall and Snape's genders the same just because it made more sense that way . . . sorry to anyone who's, like, a Hermione/Snape shipper, but I'm not, so that didn't matter.  
  
Also, many thanks to everyone who reviewed. I'm not one of those people who will say "Give me 836 reviews in two days or I will not post another sentence!" or "I'm not making any requests, but I am sure am encouraged by those reviews." Just review if you feel like it and know that I love to read them but will post anyway. Sorry the chapter took so long but I had some issues to work out.  
  
Jakob de Ludner: All right, carrying on conversations with your Neopet. I got sick of mine after about 3 days.  
  
A person: I'm getting there. She doesn't really know yet, so. . .  
  
ME!: Right. Like I'd go and repost the whole story just to change it into British English. Besides, I already spell words like "colour" and "centre" the Canadian/British way. *sighs* Ah, the things I could do with spare time.  
  
Rannchan: Thanks and thanks and thanks for the brilliant idea! I owe you one!  
  
Also, thanks to PandaExpressG, Silver Serpent, and Lori (I'm trying to get this up so I don't have time to finish writing notes, sorry!) 


	10. A Singing, Sorting Shako!

MERRY CHOTTER AND THE DRUM MAJOR'S STONE  
  
By Kate  
  
Chapter Ten  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Summary: This time I'm NOT kidding; they really do get Sorted!  
  
A/N: You should've all received an e-mail about Merry hitting the 10- chapter mark. my little baby is growing up so fast! Anyway, after this chapter, I think I might condense the plot a bit and make the chapters longer so this story doesn't drag ON and ON and ON (for those of you who read *Treasure* Island, you know EXACTLY what I mean!). If you don't want any more e-mails, just reply to mine and tell me so, but note the new address . . . stupid Angelfire shut down my last one so I had to move.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Half of the time, I can't even say his name right. (Yay for Parry Hotter!) I sure don't own marching band, either; if I did, the horns would NOT be in the woodwind block. Yuck. Middle-schoolers, indeed.  
  
  
  
CHAPTER TEN  
  
*from the last chapter, a nice little lead-in* "Students, please, be quiet," said a noble voice. Merry and Rynn sighed with relief; Aldridge would have to shut up now. "The Sorting Ceremony will begin in just a moment." *end quote*  
  
Merry looked expectantly towards the front of the Commons, waiting for some sort of huge ceremony to begin. Having lived 10 years of a poor, sheltered life, the only ceremonies Merry had seen were those in which Adley received a trophy, Adley received an award, or Adley won Most Beautiful and Generally Wonderful Student Of PMS History. So, naturally, that was what she was picturing in her mind.  
  
Instead, McGoneforgold stepped forward and placed an old, ratty, flat- topped white hat on a stool at the front of the room. It had a dirty, flopping white feather with a few random strands of tinsel left in it hanging tiredly out of a slit in the top. Hanging from its front brim were various thin pieces of wood, oddly-shaped pieces of metal, and something Merry recognized as a drumstick from one of the stores in Try-Again Alley.  
  
"Uh, Rynn, what's that?" Merry asked in a whisper.  
  
"That's the Sorting Shako. Haven't you ever seen a shako before?"  
  
"I don't think so . . . wait! Is that what was in that big plastic box Haggis-face picked up for me that he said not to open so it wouldn't get moldy?"  
  
  
  
"Exactly. You're going to be wearing one of those a bunch while you're at Smog-Hurts."  
  
"Great . . ." the idea sounded like anything but to poor Buggle-raised Merry.  
  
"Aw, come on! You'll grow to love it, especially the chicken!" Rynn's eyes were glistening with excitement at the thought of finally being able to march with Smog-Hurts' best.  
  
"Chicken?" Merry asked just as Stumblemore called the group to attention again.  
  
Rynn stood up like a string had been pulled up through her body and tightened. Out of the corner of her mouth, she managed to hiss "The feather!" without being caught.  
  
"Let the Sorting begin!" Stumblemore announced. Cheers erupted from the Commons, but all of the students suddenly remembered that they were at attention and shut up.  
  
Merry waited for someone to say something, but, instead, they all turned to look at the Sorting Shako. After a moment, a mouth-like gap opened between the visor and the main hat part and the shako began to sing.  
  
~Oh, sure, my chicken's dying  
  
But I will never stop  
  
If you can count much louder,  
  
I'll dip myself in slop.  
  
You can keep your shoes all polished  
  
And your scrubs as white as snow  
  
But I'm the Smog-Hurts Sorting Shako  
  
And I beat them all, you know.  
  
There's no intention that you have  
  
That I won't know for long  
  
So strap me on - and show no hair  
  
And we'll see where you belong  
  
Trombones belong in Brasschoir  
  
With baritones and horns  
  
Add tubas and some trumpets  
  
Brasschoir's not one to scorn  
  
They're brave to just set foot in  
  
Your average master class  
  
And, when they are challenged,  
  
They'll surely kick your (whoops, this story is PG!)  
  
Flag-spinners go in Guardo  
  
Rifles and sabres, too  
  
It's quite a lot of tricky stuff  
  
That Guardo House can do.  
  
While they'll knock Brass our silly,  
  
Guardos are lifelong friends  
  
After scoring on Impale Scale  
  
They'll be loyal 'til the end.  
  
If you're a flute, you're Windchoir  
  
Or clarinet, bassoon  
  
The oboes and the saxophones  
  
Keep Windchoir out of tune  
  
And though their tuning's frightful  
  
Windchoir's a wise old lot  
  
They'll help you out with homework  
  
And show you to your dot.  
  
But maybe you're in Drumline?  
  
Cymbal, tenor, bass, or snare  
  
The Pit belongs in Drumline too  
  
For percussiveness they share.  
  
In Drumline you'll get to work  
  
To get your own dear way  
  
The percussionists are cunning  
  
And friendships last for days.  
  
So strap me on, don't worry  
  
But keep the strings tucked in  
  
To doubt the House in which you're placed  
  
Would surely be a sin.  
  
  
  
The entire Commons exploded in applause, having been given an "at ease" from Stumblemore himself. McGoneforgold stepped forward to being the ceremony.  
  
"Abboot, Banana-fana (A/N: Yay for the Name Game)!" McGoneforgold read from her list.  
  
A meek-looking blonde girl stepped forward and mincely placed the shako on her pigtailed head. It fell down near her nose, but she seemed not to care. The hat barely paused, then cried out "Windchoir - Clarinet!"  
  
A cheer came from the Windchoir table as Banana-fana went to join them. Merry could see a ghost called the Chubby Chaplain talking to her. "Bonylegs, Susan" went to Windchoir too, though she was put on Bassoon.  
  
Merry and Rynn watched several other first-years get Sorted. Merry decided that Windchoir looked nice but boring. Drumline looked like a nasty lot - maybe it was just because of everything she'd heard about them, but they seemed to smell something more rotten than the Toronto Garbage Strike. Brasschoir, where Rynn was sure to go, would be a nice house to be Sorted into, if only because Merry would be sure to have a friend. Guardo House, Merry decided, would be a place where she couldn't survive - its members appeared to do hundreds of push-ups and sit-ups every day. Being cramped in a cupboard didn't quite count as exercising those stomach muscles.  
  
Merry turned her attention back to the ceremony right as "Feasibly, Rynn!" was announced. Rynn walked slowly to the stool, pale in the face. Merry crossed her fingers for her newfound friend, but her luck wasn't necessary. Nearly instantly, the hat cried out "Brasschoir, Baritone!" Rynn smiled and went to join her sisters. She took a seat near the end of the table, where she could still talk to Merry.  
  
"Grainger, Aldridge!" was called soon after. The boy Merry and Rynn had met earlier ran up and eagerly jammed the shako on his head.  
  
"Brasschoir - French horn!" the hat shouted.  
  
Rynn sighed. "Great," she muttered, "I'll never see the end of him now."  
  
Merry went back to wondering where she would wind up when an especially icky thought occurred to her. What if she wasn't put in any house? What if the Shako announced to the whole school that she was there by accident and should just go back to live with the Ürsleys? She could never survive that.  
  
Mauvais sauntered assuredly to the stool when her name was called. The strap of the Sorting Shako wasn't even all the way under her chin when a cry of "Drumline - Battery Alternate" filled the Commons.  
  
"That's pretty good for a first-year," Rynn explained to Merry. "She'll probably wind up being Drum Captain by seventh year."  
  
"Oh, joy," Merry whispered back. She didn't understand much about Smog- Hurts or its students yet, but she understood that Mauvais in a position of power was very, very bad. All of a sudden, it occurred to Merry that, if Mauvais just been called, her turn was long-gone.  
  
However, right after calling for "Perks, Dilly-Dally," (she, of course, went to Windchoir) McGoneforgold called out "Potter, Harry - whoops, that should be Chotter, Merry. Just got a little switched there, I guess."  
  
Merry wasn't sure whether to be relieved that she was on the list or ashamed that so much attention was being drawn to her. The whole Commons was abuzz with whispers, most of which Merry could tell contained her name. She walked forward to put on the Sorting Shako with mixed emotions churning in her stomach.  
  
A small voice whispered in her ear. "Ooh, a hard one, for once. Thank you, Ms. Chotter, for challenging me. Let's see - plenty of bravery, but also a good mind. You have arm strength and, yes, a thirst to prove yourself. But where to put you?"  
  
Merry crossed her fingers once again, thinking, "Not Drumline. Please, not Drumline. Anywhere but Drumline."  
  
"Not Drumline?" the Shako questioned. Merry nodded in a way that was imperceptible to the students in front of her. "You could be great there, you know. Be the one to start off the Smog-Hurts Fight Song by sixth or seventh year. But, if you're sure, I guess I'll put you in" the voice paused to take a deep breath, then shouted, "Brasschoir - Trombone!" (A/N: Surprised?)  
  
Merry sighed with great relief, as if a huge burden had been removed from her shoulders. All of Brasschoir House cheered to have the famous Merry Chotter in their number. Merry was just glad to be with Rynn, who she knew wouldn't attack her on sight, and Aldridge, who she thought just might turn out to be interesting.  
  
  
  
A/N: All right! Are you surprised that I put Merry on Trombone? It was hard, but I did it. I really think it fits better. And Aldridge is SUCH a horn player, and Rynn just makes me think of Euphies/Baritones. For anyone who was in Region XX Middle School/Junior High Region Symphonic Band where we played that song about Covington Square or whatever, do you remember "Bari-tuba?" 'Cause I just thought of that . . .  
  
Keep reviewing, it makes me happy! And tell me what you thought of the Sorting Shako's song!  
  
Mellie: Yeah, I'll lend you the second one at band camp tomorrow. Yeah, the Rose Parade. Shut Up and Hustle - that's HILARIOUS! I'm so using that . . . somewhere.  
  
DancingSilhouette: See, Michelle, I do listen to you! Not really, I was already gonna make Aldy a horn and Merry a boner but oh, well. Feel the love anyway.  
  
Adulaith: I hope you're as amused with this chapter as the last one! 


	11. Sing the Wrong Song

MERRY CHOTTER AND THE DRUM MAJOR'S STONE  
  
By Kate  
  
Chapter Ten  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Summary: Meet the ghosts, see the school, maybe even go to a class with the evil Snare, Compositions Master.  
  
A/N: Sorry this has taken so long, but I've been hard at work on my poor webpage. Yes, I am trying to be ironic by making Snare compositions master; I know most percussionists can't compose worth crap (there ARE some exceptions . . . ) and that everyone but percussionists will probably agree with me. Oh, yeah, and I'm through about 100 pages of the book! (At least in the British version, which is the one I have. It has 223 pages total. I don't know about the American version. I could go check the French one, which I also have, but I'm too lazy.)  
  
Disclaimer: Let's make this simple. Me = mindless pawn who owns nothing. JKR/Warner Brothers/UIL = Big people with big ownership who can make big lawsuit for big money. Me = Doesn't have big money. JKR/WB/UIL = Already have big money. Don't need mine.  
  
  
  
CHAPTER ELEVEN  
  
At last, the stress of the Sorting Ceremony was over. Everyone was in their rightful house and Merry wasn't in Drumline. Yes, all was happy and peaceful once again at Smog-Hurts.  
  
At least, it was until things that looked like people made out of big pieces of Scotch tape came floating through the Commons. Merry was amazed. She had never seen or heard of anything like this before.  
  
"Rynn, what ARE those?" she asked her red-headed friend.  
  
"They're ghosts, Merry. Don't tell me you haven't heard of them in the Buggle world!" Merry shook her head. "Are you sure? I have a book of Buggle ghost stories . . ."  
  
"Well, Uncle Harnon and Aunt Melunia had a mortal fear of anything relating to music or magic. Maybe normal Buggles have heard of ghosts. Ask Aldridge; he'd know."  
  
Rynn made a face. "Right. Like I'm going to voluntarily talk to HIM."  
  
Just as Merry was about to stand up for Aldridge, one of the Scotch-tape people --- uh, ghosts --- appeared right in front of her. She (the ghost) gazed longingly at Merry's split-pea soup. "Oh, but that does look good."  
  
"I'm sorry," Merry replied. "I wasn't aware that you could . . ."  
  
"Talk?" the ghost replied. Merry nodded shyly. "Well, yes, I can. Pity, too, that I can talk and yet I haven't been able to eat for the past 400 years. Not that I get hungry, but one does miss Oatmeal Crème Pies late on Friday nights. Oh, how rude. Please, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Lady Nicolette de Flimsy-Pompandcircumstance. I am the resident ghost of Brasschoir House."  
  
Rynn grinned, her mouth still full of garlic bread. "I know you! You're Nearly-Neckless Nicky!"  
  
"Please, I prefer Lady Nicolet" the ghost started as Sheamore Spinagain, the first Brasschoir in a long line of Guardos, interrupted.  
  
"Nearly Neckless? How do you manage being NEARLY Neckless?"  
  
"Like this," Lady Nicolette de Flimsy-Pompandcircumstance said plainly. She gripped her hair and pulled her head back to at LEAST a 60-degree angle. The base of her neck, flesh and blood alike, was fully exposed. "They won't let me join the Headless Hunt, but it sure does help in keeping your horn up at a good angle!"  
  
Brasschoir House laughed heartily; this was a fate they all fell pawn to eventually. Many a lap had been run over low horn angles. (A/N: I had to run one after practice today. I'm still bitter . . . or not. I'm not the only one in my section who can't run.)  
  
As Merry and Rynn were talking to Nearly Neckless Nicky, they were also watching and discussing the other House Ghosts. Drumline had the Bloody Bass Captain (no one knew why he was bloody, though there were more than enough theories). Meanwhile, the rest of the table had gotten on the topic of everyone's heritage. Merry was relieved to find out that she wasn't the only one of pure, unquestionable bloodline in Brasschoir House as she felt she probably would be in Drumline.  
  
In the middle of loud conversation and eating, Stumblemore announced the singing of the school song. Pearcy quickly gave Merry a sheet with the words and told her to sing to whatever tune she wanted.  
  
Stumblemore conducted the beginning of the song and everyone started to sing. "Oh say can you seeee."  
  
"STOP! STOP! STOP!" Stumblemore cried, cutting them off with a dramatic gesture of his arms. "THOU SHALT NOT SING THY STAR-SPANGLED BANNER WHEN THY SCHOOL SONG IS REQUESTED OF THEE!" (A/N: That happened at my school last year at the Homecoming Community Pep Rally. Some of us haven't lived it down yet.)  
  
After a few muttered apologies, the students started up again, this time singing the right song. Some students, sure that they were tone-deaf, sang softly and slowly. Others chose their favourite songs or familiar old tunes.  
  
"Smog-Hurts, Smog-Hurts, yes it really does hurt,  
  
March that set, oh please  
  
Whether we are seniors wise  
  
Or first-years with disease  
  
Our horns could use some filling  
  
With some sound that's not just noise  
  
Our heads are bare and full of air  
  
Math and English are such joys!  
  
So teach us things worth knowing  
  
And put shakos 'sur les tetes'  
  
Do great - not good - it's understood  
  
And we'll always be the best."  
  
Merry finished somewhere in the middle of the group. Freida and Georgia Feasibly, always two for attention, finished last. They had chosen the theme to "Enigma Variations" to sing to, which can be worse than a funeral march. (A/N: That's our show this year. It does sound like a funeral. Our colorguard are dressed in black with gray, all velvet, which doesn't really help.)  
  
Everyone applauded the boisterous twins, and Stumblemore sent everyone off to bed. Pearcy, glad to finally be in a leadership position, led all of the new Brasschoir members off to their dormitory. It was guarded by a picture of a heavy All-Stater in a shockingly pink dress.  
  
"Password?" she requested.  
  
"Cap it, grey cone us." Pearcy spouted off, trying to make it sound all fancy and Latin. "Remember that," she told all of the new-first years as the portrait swung open.  
  
Inside was a nice, cosy, circular room full of posture chairs and squishy couches. "Welcome to the Brasschoir Room. We got this room because Guardo House always had The Guard Room and they had to make everything equal." (A/N: Why does guard get a nice room with couches and all and we get SQUAT? Is anyone else's school like that?) "Now, you'll find boys' dormitories in the tower to the left - tubas on the bottom level, trombones and baritones in the middle, and trumpets and horns on the top. Girls are the same to the right. If you're found in the opposite sex's room after curfew, there WILL be consequences. And don't forget the cardinal rule of band: you can date within your choir. That's fine. You can date Guardos. You can date Woodwinds. You can even date Drumline if you enjoy taking your life and your health into your own hands. But never, ever, EVER date within your own section. That's just plain incestuous. Well, except for trumpets. No one really cares what you do."  
  
Merry sighed. It had been a long day, but at least she and Rynn would be in the same dorm. They plodded up the stairs to the second floor of the Brasschoir girls' tower, finding that their luggage had already been delivered. All it took was pajamas and a nice, warm shower for Merry to be ready to plop into bed and fall straight asleep.  
  
A/N: Sorry about all the author's notes sprinkled throughout the chapter. I just had to comment. I didn't leave one about in-section dating, though, so here's my question for everyone who doesn't go to school with me: is it like that for YOU? I mean, it's just wrong to date within your section, but trumpets do it anyway. Are all trumpets like that, or is it just because ours had a section leader who could've been from Arkansas last year? Just wondering.  
  
I'm sorry it took me so long to post this. I'm not going to post again until FFN is done with the big move and all just so that nothing gets lost.  
  
Thanks to everyone who reviewed:  
  
Jakob der Ludner, Rosaline, SilverSerpent, DancingSilhouette (Michelle), lori, Mellie, adulaith, Lnzy, and Clarinetgirl.  
  
Rannchan: I'm not structured enough for a schedule, sorry. Hope you got my email about this one!  
  
I Can Get A Mini Cooper For Free And With Caramel At That: Sorry. She's just so trombone-ish. Poor Rebecca. Gold as in the pretty gold medals we get if we win state, duh.  
  
A woodwind player: I'm brass. I don't have to be mean to my family and the rest of the people you can actually HEAR on the marching field. So there.  
  
The Miserable: It's a word if I say it's a word. But hey, I love Les Miserables too, so I'm not gonna argue. 


	12. Compositions Class

MERRY CHOTTER AND THE DRUM MAJOR'S STONE  
  
By Kate  
  
Chapter Twelve  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Summary: Merry begins life in school. Conflict, friendship, challenges; it's all good!  
  
A/N: The writing of this story may be slowed slightly by the beginning of two new projects: The Time Machine and The Combustible Emu. TTM is this year's CHS band story and recently premiered. TCE is a webzine/ramble page/general hang-out that some of my friends are starting. It's like a better version of last year's TARDHEAD. When TH was good. If you're interested in working on the Emu, let me know. If you like your life, read and review TTM so I don't hunt you down for not doing so.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I don't own marching band. I'm not making any money from this story. And no, it wasn't me who buttered that monkey's armpits!  
  
CHAPTER TWELVE  
  
On her first day of classes, Merry Chotter awoke bright and early with butterflies zooming around and randomly hitting walls in her stomach. Polades Middle School had had classes, sure, but you could basically pass by being on a sports team or being somehow related to anyone who had ever played on a sports team. Merry had a feeling that the same lineage wouldn't pull much sway here at Smog-Hurts.  
  
To top it all off, her first class was Basic Composition with Snare, the Compositions Master and head of Drumline House. This particular class was also Doubles with Drumline, meaning that Merry would have to endure a teacher who already wasn't looking too fond of her PLUS classmates who belonged to a group headed by Leona Mauvais, whom Merry had flat-out rejected the night before. Merry had read a book on musical structure and composition while Rynn was sleeping on the train to Smog-Hurts, but that didn't explain why she would need her cauldron for this class. * Then again, * Merry thought, * there isn't much that DOES make sense right now. *  
  
Before long, all of the girls in Brasschoir House were awake. They quickly took showers and got dressed. Their "primping time" was made up of the two minutes it took to run a brush through their hair and make sure their bras weren't showing. A few put on a bit of makeup, but it was simple. Windchoir House, on the other hand . . .  
  
Merry and Rynn gathered the supplies necessary for Basic Composition and headed out towards the dungeons with a few other Brasschoir girls. Aldridge met up with them on the way, once again spouting out random facts.  
  
"Aldridge, please, class hasn't started yet. Can we pretend to be NORMAL, SANE PEOPLE, at least until we get to the dungeons?" Rynn begged.  
  
"Fine," Aldridge murmured softly. "I passed Dramatic Studies at my old school with flying colours. I only hope we can say the same about you two if you wish to act normal."  
  
"Wait a second," Merry cut in. "Was that our buddy Aldy actually making a cut AND a joke, only in words to fancy for Rynn and me to understand?"  
  
Rynn pretended to faint. "Dear Lord, I thought I'd never see the day."  
  
Aldridge laughed. "Aw, c'mon, guys. It's not the craziest thing that could happen. Besides, there's a lot about me that you don't know yet."  
  
And for that one moment right before reaching the Compositions Dungeon, it was almost as if the genius Aldridge Grainger, the quiet-but-funny Rynn Feasibly, and the famous Merry Chotter were not only good friends but old friends, perfectly at home and happy in each other's presence.  
  
The happy feeling disappeared the instant the trio walked into Snare's classroom. Reluctantly finding seats and preparing for the class, the three felt the air of suspicion and darkness that haunted the room.  
  
Precisely at the instant first classes started, Professor Snare began to speak. "Welcome to Basic Compositions. I expect all of you to meet the basic expectations for this class but, believe me, only a few of you will have what it takes to make beautiful music and truly succeed. The rest of you I don't expect to understand the subtle art and specific science that is Composing. Rarely do I have a student who truly gets it. If you have the gift and are willing to use it, however, I can teach you how to do wonderful, magical things. I can teach you to attain great fame almost instantly, to stir up great, glorious emotions, and even to charm death. Of course, you'll first have to prove that you are infinitely above the morons they usually give me to teach." He paused for a moment to send a positive-looking glance in the direction of Leona and her little posse of Drumline members. All of a sudden, he burst out with, "CHOTTER! Tell me, what would I get if I took a B-double-flat thirty-second note in five-four time and put a standard fermata on top of it along with a double-sharp?"  
  
Merry wasn't quite sure. Aldridge's hand, however, shot directly into the air. "Um, sir, I'm not quite sure," Merry replied quietly.  
  
"Just as I thought . . ." Snare said maliciously. "And what would happen if I stirred the Heartstring of a Frog into the brew as that change was taking place?"  
  
"No answer," was the only answer Merry could give. Aldridge, of course, was nearly dying of anxiety to answer the question, so Merry couldn't help but add a, "But I think Mr. Grainger there knows."  
  
"SHUT UP!" Snare snapped, then regained his dark composure. "Obviously, fame isn't everything. You, Ms. Chotter, will be lucky to get out of this class with a PASSING GRADE!"  
  
Merry gulped. She had always been a straight-A student. Before she could write a quick, sarcastic note to Rynn, Snare passed out some instructions for a basic two-line ditty in the key of Concert F. This was an especially easy task as they were only required to write parts for a brass quintet: two trumpets, a trombone, a French horn, and a tuba. Merry started to sort out the animal parts necessary for this Intrada and decide upon the melody. Mixing together a brew of emotion and tempo, she hummed the tune softly. She was only halfway through, however, when Aldridge's cauldron exploded in sound. His piece began with a quick trumpet fanfare, followed by a moving French horn/trombone melody with a measured tuba underneath it all. Gradually getting louder and louder, faster and faster, it finally came to a conclusion with another fanfare and resounding chord. All of the Brasschoir members in the class erupted in applause as Drumline/Pit scowled and sulked.  
  
Snare, however, was not at all pleased. "Five points from Brasschoir for interrupting class. Ten points, Mr. Grainger, for using an unassigned key change, thirty-second notes, and range beyond that of a normal First-Year. Ms. Chotter, I'm sure you neglected to tell your friend here that sixteenth notes were the limit, so two more points will be taken from Brasschoir."  
  
The grins on Brasschoir faces and the scowls on Drumline mugs quickly switched places. Luckily, the class ended soon afterward, so Aldridge and Merry didn't get too much flak from their house-mates. Still, they were rather disheartened, so Aldridge went to the library and Merry and Rynn went out to visit Haggis-face in his cottage.  
  
As Rynn and Haggis-face were discussing Carly's work with dragons, Merry looked around the cozy little house. She was disturbed, however, by the cover story in the Daily Prophet lying on Haggis-face's table. "Bring-Your- Dots Break-in!" it screamed. Merry, too, gave a little yelp.  
  
"What?" Rynn asked. Haggis-face's eyes were full of concern.  
  
"The Bring-Your-Dots break-in! It happened on my birthday! Haggis-face, it must've happened while we were there! Suppose we had been killed!" Merry was just ranting now.  
  
"Mm," was Haggis-face's only reply. Merry was unsatisfied, but had no time to pry as she and Rynn had to head back to the castle for their next class: Marching Technique and Basic Flying.  
  
A/N: Well, there you go. Chapter Twelve. If you're bored, go read The Time Machine or one of my other stories. And don't forget to review this AND that! Thanks to those who reviewed Chapter Eleven:  
  
Mellie, Merri Kate, Silver Serpent, The Miserable, adulaith, Clarinelf, coolchick1124.  
  
Dancing Silhouette (Michelle) and Jessica: Family ladder, family helix. I'm going with helix, because they're too twisted to have a ladder.  
  
Jakob der Ludner: Thanks for reviewing my other story! (And Jess, too, but I already commented you and we wouldn't want you to feel TOO loved now, would we?)  
  
Ravenslyth: Well, we have a non-female flute (two, last year) but he's just . . . Ben. He's not even a Big Brother for Big Brothers/Sisters (which horns DON'T do! We have Pit!). He's just a Big Ben. Heh, like the clock.  
  
On the whole in-section dating thing: It's final. It's just trumpets. Everyone else knows better. Heh, Mr. "Your Dad's Still In School" Ryan is in my math class and my chemistry class, I think, for those of you who know what I mean. Hey, Jess, all we need in math to have . . . fun now is you and your abusive daddy! 


	13. DrillDowns!

MERRY CHOTTER AND THE DRUM MAJOR'S STONE  
  
By Kate  
  
Rating: PG (just like the movie!)  
  
Chapter Thirteen  
  
Summary: True to its number, some very unlucky things happen, but, as always, something good happens for Merry as well.  
  
A/N: This would have been up a lot sooner if I wasn't such a band nerd and didn't spend so much time at practice. Also, I'd written this about a week ago but as I was proofreading (for once in my life), I decided that it was awfully boring; 1500 words or so of marching lessons. Since band nerds are like musicians - we never give away our secrets and those who need to know them, do, I decided I could kind of skip the boring part. We pick up in MTBF (Marching Technique and Basic Flying) with Drumline and Brasschoir, together again. They've already learned the basics of marching now. Flying will come later.  
  
  
  
CHAPTER THIRTEEN  
  
  
  
Merry, Aldridge, and Rynn were beginning to wish they got water breaks in Marching Technique and Basic Flying class. Not only had they come nowhere near to learning how to fly, the air was muggy. Aldridge wiped sweat from his forehead as Mr. Te led the group in yet another run through 8 sets of 8, forward marching, at an incredibly slow tempo.  
  
"Forward . . . march . . . forward . . . march," he called out in a measured tone. (A/N: I know other bands have other commands involving things like "harch," but that's the way my band does it and I love it!)  
  
All of the Drumline and Brasschoir students snapped out their left feet and touched almost close to what could pretty much be called together. "One . . . ta . . . te . . . ta . . . two . . ." they counted, practically falling asleep. All of a sudden, a THUNK was heard on the far side of the practice field.  
  
"Nevilla!" Aldridge cried out anxiously. Nevilla was the first girl tuba player Smog-Hurts had had in almost a decade and she had been suffering under the weight of the Sousaphone for a while now. Still, that wouldn't have been enough to do her in.  
  
"Now, class, watch carefully," Mr. Te instructed. "This is a perfect example of why you never lock your knees while forward marching." He bent down to see if Nevilla was badly injured. Generally, she looked okay, but her knee was awfully twisted. "I'd better take Nevilla to the Nurse Clinic. If anyone is marching while I'm gone, you'll be in detentions for longer than a seventh-year girl can throw her concert dress. That's a command."  
  
Mr. Te helped Nevilla up and walked her toward the main school building. As soon as he was out of sight and earshot, Leona Mauvais swooped down on Nevilla's Sousaphone. She was fidgeting with it for a moment, then stood, triumphant. "If Mr. Te noticed that little Neville didn't screw in her mouthpiece securely, she'd be doing pushups from here to eternity." The Drumline girl held up the shiny mouthpiece, her lips twisted into a wry smile.  
  
"Hey!" exclaimed Merry. "You give that back now!"  
  
"Make me, Chotter," Mauvais challenged. "You. Me. A drill-down. Now."  
  
"You got it," Merry shot back, keeping her voice smooth.  
  
"Merry! Don't do it!" Aldridge warned frantically. "You know Mr. Te told us not to march while he was gone . . ."  
  
"Aw, can it, Grainger," Mauvais ordered. "Okay, then, Chotter, let's go."  
  
The two lined up eight steps apart on the fifty-yard line. "Okay, here are the rules," commanded Leona. "Full attention, horns down. Forward march eight, left flank eight, left flank eight, left flank eight. Forward march eight, right flank eight, right flank eight, right flank eight. Forward march eight, left slide eight, backward march eight, right slide eight. Left flank eight, right slide eight, backward march eight, right slide eight, and halt."  
  
Merry tried to commit all of that to memory. She got to count off since Leona had given both the drill and the challenge. "Forward march, forward march," she half-barked at a comfortable tempo.  
  
The first eight sets of eight went rather smoothly, with both girls remembering all the turns. From then on, it got trickier and trickier, with neither one positive that they were doing the right thing at the right time. Merry just concentrated on keeping her shoulders square. Finally, the drill-down was over and Leona handed the mouthpiece to a Windchoir member who had been walking by and tagged as a judge.  
  
The clarinet guy stopped and thought for a minute, then decided he didn't care and just randomly threw the mouthpiece. Leona dashed for it, but Merry, choosing a crowd-pleaser, jazz-ran all the way there and managed to win the mouthpiece. All of the Brasschoir members cheered, much as they had after Aldridge's performance in Compositions class. Only as Merry glanced toward the school with pride did she notice McGoneforgold standing in the school's courtyard.  
  
McGoneforgold approached Merry briskly with an unreadable look on her face. "Come with me, young lady," she commanded. Merry gulped and followed the professor back into the school.  
  
The two stopped off at the lisping professor's classroom. "Excuse me, professor, could I borrow Steel for a moment, please?"  
  
Merry was beginning to get very frightened. What was Steel, some sort of weapon? Mr. Te had only mentioned detention; maybe Steel was some sort of jail cell.  
  
Strangely enough, only a fifth-year girl came out of the room. She had plain brown hair and hazel eyes and, after a quick chat with McGoneforgold, stuck out her hand to greet Merry. "Hi, I'm Olivia Steel, captain of the Brasschoir drill-down team and Horn Section Leader. I'm sorry we didn't have a chance to get acquainted earlier. Professor M. here tells me that you're going to be our dresser this year; that's just great! We're going to go out to the drill-down pitch so you can get a feel for what goes on."  
  
So Merry wasn't in trouble; she was joining a drill-down team, whatever that was. Hopefully she wouldn't get too bloodied up in doing so.  
  
Once Olivia and Merry were outside, Olivia opened a rather large wooden chest. It contained one large speaker, two small ones, a whole bunch of wires, and a microphone.  
  
"Okay, here's how a drill down works. Two houses are on the field at once. We spend the week before a match putting together a pretty short, pretty spiffy drill to perform. We all have to march the drill and the Sound Masters - there are three of those per team - have to get the speakers set up on the stands on the side of the field while leaving their line as little as possible - using enchantments works pretty well, but points are deducted for breaking or bruising the speakers. The Freshman - that's me, it has nothing to do with grade level - has to keep the other house from getting their speakers up. Also, those wires are live wires during the match and it's the job of the Sound Crew to keep anyone else from getting shocked. They have special lyres to use for that. But all I want you to worry about is this." Olivia indicated the microphone. "This little baby flies around the field during the game. You catch it, and the game is over. You catch the microphone and we win." The captain paused to take a breath. "Oh, yeah, plus we get style points, especially for cool horn moves."  
  
Merry took a deep breath. It was looking like this might be a pretty exciting year after all.  
  
A/N: Okay, I know it's kind of short, but there you go. Please review! Thanks to those who did:  
  
FVBando, The Miserable, Rosaline, and adulaith.  
  
Dancing Silhouette (Michelle): Heh, the rest of the school is so dense towards band. Example: "While all of you were sleeping in and enjoying your summer . . ." - Volleyball  
  
Latinpro: Welcome to the Merry Chotter club! More Time Machine is coming, eventually. But hey, I'm joining Latin Club, so be happy!  
  
Lori: Pit's just different. They don't march shows, they spend half of their time inside, etc. Drumline is made up of several morons, some potheads, some just plain scary people, and Julia, to pretty much sum it up. 


End file.
